The Forest for the Trees
by Initial A
Summary: Regina's summer is full of plans - plans to expand their family, plans to distract herself from missing her husband, plans to make their lives better in the future. But her plans blind her to the problems growing under her nose at home - problems it might be too late to fix. Takes place during chapters 13-16 of Dark Horse. {AU} {Part of the Storybrooke Downs universe} {Ensemble}


**This story does not make sense outside of the context of** ** _Dark Horse_** **.**

 **Much thanks to michigangirl9396 and nfbagelperson for being my legal consultants here!**

 **Please be advised that this deals rather heavily with the subject of eating disorders and the rather grotesque body descriptions that comes with the territory. Regina's problems with bearing children are discussed in some detail. Regina also quite frankly discusses the abusive relationship she shared with Cora and how she controlled everything from her social life to her meals. There's also some OQ sex.**

 **If I missed anything, my sincere apologies - it's rather long! Just be prepared for a lot of difficult subjects to be touched upon.**

* * *

There has been a long debate in the Hood-Mills household in regards to dogs. She has been on the receiving end of many a pleading look from her husband and children, but she stands firm in her position. Dogs are expensive. They're slobbery, they leave hair and mud and _everything_ all over her clean house, _and_ they need constant entertainment. They need lots of exercise and attention, and most importantly, they cannot be left alone for very long.

She becomes mysteriously deaf when it's pointed out that many of those same arguments can be said for their three horses.

Regina is _not_ a dog person.

However.

Over the last eighteen years, comparatively few of her nights have been spent alone in her bed. She and Daniel had married at twenty - ten years together and very few of them spent apart. After Daniel died, Regina had had to focus on her career and raising her son alone, but then she'd met Robin. After his divorce, they'd connected almost immediately - and she still hears snickers from less professional coworkers about how she'd met her current husband at the law office where he was divorcing his wife.

Eighteen months of dating and three years of marriage later, Regina is very used to having someone sharing her bed with her. With Robin out researching _Adiantum aleuticum_ for the next two months, she almost wishes she'd given in to the pleas for a dog. It would at least be a comforting presence.

She _almost_ wishes. Not quite, though.

There were a few nights at first where Roland would want to sleep in "the big bed" with her, and Regina treasured those pleas - until he inevitably starfished out and kicked her in his sleep. Like father, like son. But as Roland grew used to Robin's absence around the house, those requests stopped. Now she's trying to adjust to sleeping in the middle of their bed, hoping that makes it feel less huge, less empty.

It doesn't.

Maybe if she could actually _talk_ to Robin things wouldn't feel so lonely. But they're roughing it, Robin and his grad students, and that includes no electricity or technology outside of an emergency. Unfortunately, missing her husband does not count as an emergency.

This may be why Regina buries herself in paperwork.

"Mom, you're working an awful lot lately," Henry remarks one evening from his spot in the doorway. She's in her study, reading glasses perched on the tip of her nose as she tries to read over this affidavit that Perkins wants her okay on. She hates wearing the glasses because they make her feel older than thirty-eight, but without them her headaches would be worse than they already are.

"Well, it's this or working over Christmas, sweetheart. I'd rather get ahead of the curve now and spend time with everyone over the holidays," Regina says, not looking up from her papers. The words aren't making much sense, but she's not as familiar with this case as Perkins is. _The reasoning seems sound enough_ , she thinks while refusing to admit that she's tired and this would all go over better in the morning. But in the morning she's got to work on her own cases. Daytime is for her work or assisting her associates in an emergency, evenings are spent on non-urgent things she's promised to help with. She has a system. It's working.

When Henry doesn't say anything else, Regina glances up over the rims of her glasses. "Did you need something, Henry?"

He shakes his head. "Nah. Just saying goodnight. And don't stay up too late."

She smiles a little. "That's my line. I'd better not hear any X-box when I do go upstairs."

"I've got morning duty down at the Horn, Mom," Henry says with the eyeroll and exasperated tone combo that's becoming more common the older he gets. "There's no way I can play video games and get up on time!"

Regina's smile broadens. "That's my boy. Good night, Henry."

"Night, Mom."

She's glad he's keeping busy. She knows that an extra pair of hands around the farm would never be turned away, even though it means spending more time with Will Scarlet than Regina would prefer. But now that Henry's on the cross country team, he's spending a lot of time with people his own age and Regina's pleased with that. She feels guilty not being around during the boys' summer vacation. She knows she shouldn't, she's preparing for the future - _their_ future, their potential future _sibling's_ future - but guilt bites at her anyway. _All part of being a mom_ , she tells herself again and again. _Work to provide for your family that you never get to see because you have to work_.

At least Roland's doing well. Regina had worried that Roland might get tired of playing with Leo so often, but Marian's schedule changes weekly so it's not quite so routine. Regina knows that Marian does her best to take Roland out and do things, so Regina does her best to switch up her weekends with the boys between home and going out.

Not that Henry seems to spend much time at home on the weekends either, or that his time at home is spent awake. Those teenage sleep hormones must be kicking in, because there are some mornings she feels like she's going to have to drag him out of bed and toss him in a horse trough. And when he is awake, he's always got team bonding sessions to attend, or he goes out and trains. At first, Regina's concerned about how much time he spends running, but he shows her his training schedule and mentions practicing with Grace Milliner a lot. Regina wisely says nothing on the matter of Grace and figures he goes and meets up with her somewhere. He's fifteen, of course he wants to spend time with his peers and not his mother.

She just misses her son sometimes, that's all.

Longer nights at the office don't help her growing feeling of disconnection from her boys. It's a nice office of course, chic and businesslike, and if she turns her chair she can look across the long lawn and through the trees to see the harbor filled with civilian boats. The view outside of the tall windows provides a peaceful backdrop for the ordeal of business she has to deal with every day. She likes to think it's calmed more than one fight between a union leader and a business owner from getting too out of control. But it's still _work_ , not home with her sons and her husband.

 _Work_ is a two-story Tudor Revival house converted into the small headquarters for Heller, De Vil, Brown  & Pendragon, LLC. It's a little bit of a trek to find - outside of Friendship, Maine proper and tucked back in the woods as they are - but their clients like the discrete quality of the office. Regina likes the location as well, but she could do without the town's name. _Friendship_. Who names a town _Friendship_ and doesn't give themselves cavities? She makes a face at the sign as she drives past it. She does it every day, but the news that Mary Margaret is expecting her second child so soon has her in a foul mood.

July has decided to go out with a heat wave and Regina walks into the blessedly air-conditioned building with relief. "I don't know how you're wearing that, honestly," she comments to Ms. De Vil as they run into each other in the mail room. As usual, Ms. De Vil is dressed to the nines in black and white and her signature blood red lipstick, but her white sleeveless top has fur along the collar and crossing her chest.

"Didn't your mother ever teach you that beauty is pain, darling?" Ms. De Vil drawls, flicking through a stack of envelopes.

Cora taught Regina many things, but she must have forgotten that particular lesson. Regina's mouth twists in a wry smirk. "Afraid not."

Ms. De Vil (Regina has never been able to bring herself to address the intimidating woman by her first name, and deals with her on a professional level so rarely that she feels it's rude) makes a disinterested noise. "Well, take it to heart, Hood. We suffer so that men throw themselves at us to be the first to offer us relief, whatever form that might take."

Regina keeps her face calm in light of her urge to laugh: it's not exactly a secret that Ms. De Vil and Ms. Brown are together but apparently De Vil, at least, is keeping up appearances as a career-focused, eternal bachelorette. "I'll bear that in mind," Regina says instead, taking her mail. "Though my husband has been spending the last several weeks roasting marshmallows and telling scary stories around a campfire with his students, so I don't think I'll have to do much to have him throwing himself at me."

Ms. De Vil's eyes flick up to meet hers. "Living outdoors? For how long?"

"Since the fifteenth of last month. He'll be back on the sixteenth."

Ms. De Vil makes a face. "How ghastly. I don't know how you stand living with someone who insists on smelling like forest all the time."

Regina smiles, picking up her bag. "It grows on you," she says. "Have a good day, Ms. De Vil."

She buries herself in paperwork and phone calls all morning, doing everything she can to ignore the bitter jealousy gnawing at her stomach. It's not until her computer screen goes dark that she even breaks her focus. Anger surges through her - that was an email that had taken twenty minutes to word correctly! - and she gets ready to go down and harass Hessler for not paying the electric bill on time again before noticing that the other lights are still on in her office. Regina blinks and takes in a charcoal gray suit and carefully coiffed blonde hair. "There she is," Mal Pendragon says, her tone teasing.

"Did you turn my computer off?" Regina demands.

"I turned your monitor off, dear," Mal tells her patiently. "It's almost two, have you moved from that chair at _all_ today?"

Regina's ready to snap an answer back, but her stomach growls. Mal's lifted eyebrow says about a hundred things - chief among them being "I thought so" - so Regina gets to her feet. They have a standing lunch date almost daily, so the guilt in Regina's gut can also chew on the fact that she'd almost missed that.

She follows Mal to her office after they retrieve their packed lunches from the kitchen downstairs and sinks into a couch with a happy sigh. Mal specializes in family law and so her office is much more family-friendly, with brighter colors and softer furniture than Regina's. Regina kicks off her heels and tucks her feet up under her as she takes a half of her sandwich. "So, what's got you all zeroed in today?" Mal asks, sliding her chopsticks out from their little case. She's brought sushi for her lunch. "It's been a little while since I had to remind you to eat."

Regina makes a face and swallows the larger-than-is-polite bite she'd taken. "Casework. I was on the phone half the morning, that construction company I was telling you about -"

Mal levels a patient look at her and Regina feels very underdressed in her pantsuit. "You know what I mean, Regina," Mal says.

Regina resists the urge to heave a gusty sigh. Mal's been her mentor and friend for almost a dozen years, ever since Regina came in as a junior associate. She just has to _look_ at Regina and know that there's something on her mind. "Do you mean today, or in general?" she asks, picking out an apple piece.

Mal smiles, dabbling a sushi roll in some sauce. "Whichever you prefer, my dear."

"I thought you were a marriage _lawyer_ , not a marriage _counselor_ ," Regina fires back.

"Oh, so 'counselors, approach the bench' means nothing?"

"You know what I mean."

"And you're avoiding the question," Mal says pointedly. "If it pleases the witness to actually testify."

Regina narrows her eyes, trying not to smile and doing poorly at it. "I found out that a friend of mine is having another baby," she says finally, sitting back against the armrest. "This morning, actually. I went to drop Roland off with her and she was puking her guts out in the sink."

Mal's eyes are sympathetic. "She's sure? There's a bit of a bug going around."

"As sure as she can be," Regina mutters.

"And this upsets you."

She knows Mal means it as a question, waiting for Regina to open up instead of peppering her with more questions. Regina appreciates this tactic, the ability to go at her own pace. "It's just that she - they only decided recently to try for another child and that it's happened so soon I just… Robin and I have been discussing… It's why I've been taking on so much extra work. I'd like to get ahead of the curve, make sure I can take time off when I need to."

Mal considers her carefully, chewing slowly. Regina wants to squirm under that intense gaze; once, several years ago, she'd asked Mal why she'd gone into family law. Surely someone with that much intensity was needed elsewhere. Criminal or international law, climbing the judicial ladder, something. But Mal has her own reasons, most of it stemming from her own messy family politics, her early separation from her ex-husband, and her daughter Lily. And as intense as Mal can get, she's also surprisingly gentle when she wants to be. "You know that we'd all support you," she says finally, "that you can rearrange your hours and take as much time as you'd need, right?"

Regina's smile is less firm than she'd like it to be. She's worked hard for her position, respected by her peers and the few associates under her, but such is their world that praise is scarce. It's always a shock to hear it. Even this small bit of praise is a bit much. "I do. I - I don't know if I've ever told you about Henry. Daniel and I, we…" she pauses for a moment, trying to decide how to explain her son, her miracle. She and Mal have shared a lot over the years, but this has always felt too personal, too much to share with someone who was once her boss. "I had a lot of trouble," she says finally. "Henry's the only child I've ever been able to carry to term. When I got pregnant with him, Daniel and I had promised that it was our last try, and if I lost him we'd find another way to be parents. I was so scared, between maybe finally becoming a mother and my first year at law school and maybe losing another child… but Henry fought. I fought for him, he fought for me. There's been nothing else in my life that's ever lived up to hearing him cry for the first time. And Daniel was so happy, we never even thought about having another child. We'd gone through so much already, Henry was enough for both of us."

Mal makes a move as if she's about to get up, but stops when Regina continues. "And then Daniel died, and part of me wished we'd been able to have more children, so more of him could live on. But again, Henry was enough for me, and frankly it's been a bit astonishing to see him growing up and just how _much_ of Daniel is in him. He's getting so tall lately, all arms and legs just like his father at that age..." The corners of her lips turn up a bit. Maybe she _did_ need to talk to someone about all of this. "Tangent aside, Robin and I have been discussing the possibility of having another child. Fertility specialists and treatments are expensive, though, and with Henry off to school in a few years and Roland growing up, well… I'm doing what I can to make sure we aren't hurting if anything comes of it."

There's a long moment of silence, broken up by quiet voices passing in the hall occasionally. Finally, Mal goes back to her lunch. "Here I thought I was getting the woes of the newlyweds being separated for a long time, and instead I've unlocked your tragic backstory. You never cease to surprise me, Regina."

"I like to keep the old dragon lady on her toes," Regina retorts, glad for a few jokes to lighten the mood. "And Robin and I are hardly newlyweds."

Mal taps her chopsticks against her cheek, humming. "Now, hang on, am I or am I not speaking with the woman who often finds hand-written love notes in her lunchbox?"

Regina's heart aches at that reminder. She does miss Robin, truly. "We've been married for three years, that's hardly newlyweds," she tries to scoff, eating another slice of apple.

"And I'd barely filed his divorce papers before you snatched him up," Mal teases. "You were practically married the moment you two set eyes on each other. Quite frankly, I find the whole thing disgusting."

"I had to 'snatch him up', as you so eloquently put it, before someone else did," Regina counters, and Mal just smirks. "Tell me about Lily," she says, changing the subject. "How's school going for her?"

As she'd suspected, Mal's smirk softens into a smile at the mention of her daughter. They've had a rough decade - a bit of a long estrangement when Lily had gotten caught up with a string of bad partners and some habits that criss-crossed the lines of legality. But recently she's been trying to get back on her feet, going to school and trying to figure out how to make amends for her mistakes in the past. Mal speaks of her with pride now and is more than happy to fill Regina in on the details.

There's a dinner at Shepherd's Point for Leo's birthday that Regina barely remembers to leave in time for. She can't help but steal glances at Mary Margaret throughout, wondering how she could possibly stand keeping such an enormous secret. God, the first time Regina had been pregnant she'd practically run across campus and burst into Daniel's weekly lab to tell him. She'd managed to wait out in the hallway, but she'd thrown her arms around him the second he left the lab and told him right there in the hallway.

Losing that first one had hurt the most.

The third time had been the worst: she'd actually gotten to the second trimester and Daniel cried for almost two weeks. He'd tried to hide it from her, but a few times she'd woken up in the middle of the night and he'd be gone. She'd hear him down the hall. The first few times she'd let him mourn in private - she knew the need to grieve alone well - but after the first week she always went to him, sitting on the cold linoleum of their tiny apartment's tinier bathroom and mourning what could have been together.

Henry was their fourth, and last, try. She'd been so terrified that she didn't even let Daniel know until she knew she would start showing. She didn't want to disappoint him again, didn't want to give him false hope, give _herself_ false hope…

Mary Margaret catches her eye and Regina thinks she sees a flicker of sympathy - no, not sympathy.

 _Empathy_.

Maybe Regina does understand how Mary Margaret could keep such a secret.

Regina finds herself growing antsy as the date of Robin's return grows closer. More than once she catches herself tapping her pen on the table during particularly disenchanting meetings with clients - _not_ a good thing. When she's not with clients, she's occasionally stares out across the lawn at the gaps between the trees, the light glinting off the harbor water. It's counterproductive, spending her time wondering if she's doing enough to take the necessary time off if she and Robin are really going to go through with this, try to have another child - a child of their own, together. But it's a nice distraction for when she's read over union code revisions and business contracts until her eyes want to fall out of her head.

Particularly when she hasn't seen or spoken to her husband in almost eight weeks.

She should feel more upset about Henry going off to running camp for a week, but she's feeling too anticipatory about the following weekend. Robin will be home on Saturday and Henry on Sunday. And if Henry's at camp she doesn't have to feel as guilty about working later or if he's staying out of trouble without too much supervision. (At least after this weekend, Robin will be home more often.) She's caught him asleep in front of the TV on more than one night lately - or just in bed long before she gets home - but she attributes that to a combination of being a teenager, working so much at the Horn, and his official practices starting. She figures he can't get into trouble if he's sleeping.

The week practically crawls by. Regina's short-tempered and her attention span is worse than Roland's - even Ms. De Vil comments on it one day, and she's not the most patient woman herself. It doesn't help that Emma keeps calling either. The first time, Regina doesn't think anything of it - they're friends and they haven't talked much over the last few weeks. When Emma calls on Tuesday, Regina is curious. They're friends and the haven't talked much recently, but two days in a row? It dawns on her when she sees Emma's name on her phone on Wednesday. "Miss Swan," Regina greets her, her tone tiptoeing the line between pleasant and icy.

"Uh, hey Regina, did I catch you at a bad time or -"

"Is there a specific reason you're calling me so often? You can't be that desperate for company," Regina says.

Emma makes a noise of outrage. "Hey! Regina -"

"Emma, I know what you're doing."

A moment of silence and then, "What _am_ I doing, Regina?"

"You're mother-henning me. Or should I say, mother _Swan_ -ing me," Regina tells her.

Emma stutters on her end. "I'm not doing anything! I'm just a friend who - who is concerned and - fuck."

Regina smiles, resisting the urge to laugh. " _Yes_ , Miss Swan, I am fine," she says, trying to be as stern as possible. "I have things to do and you're keeping me from them."

Emma sighs. "Well, if you're ever _not_ fine, I'm a phone call away."

"Robin and Henry will both be home by Sunday night. I think if I have lasted this long I will struggle through the rest," Regina says. "May I please get some work done today?"

" _Fine_."

When Saturday _finally_ arrives, Regina and Roland spend the whole day making a big "WELCOME HOME PAPA AND HENRY" sign and hanging it up in the entryway. While the paint's drying, they make a special dinner with all of Robin's favorites - as decided by Roland, which meant that a lot of the foods were _his_ favorites. Regina hopes he'll be distracted for Henry's welcome home dinner prep tomorrow.

Around six, the front door opens and Regina's heart stutters and swells to bursting in her chest to hear Robin's call of "I'm home!" and Roland's answering screech of "PAPA!"

Roland races ahead of her and leaps into Robin's waiting hug. He stands, cradling Roland to him as their son rambles on and on and on about what happened during the eight weeks he's been gone. Regina somehow manages to keep her composure, though she's smiling so much that her cheeks hurt as she takes long strides to envelop herself under Robin's free arm. He kisses her forehead as she whispers, " _Welcome home_ ," inhaling deeply and grinning to herself.

He smells like forest.

After dinner clean-up is almost torture. She insists multiple times that he should go relax, she can wash pans and load the dishwasher herself. Each time he just smiles, his eyes flicking down her body briefly before meeting hers again with such heat within them that Regina grips whatever she's holding a little bit tighter. With Roland sitting at the breakfast bar and asking Robin a hundred questions a minute they manage to keep things PG-rated, but occasionally a hand will linger or personal space will be invaded for a little longer than necessary.

Roland's reluctant to go to bed. "But Papa," he whines, dragging out the last a, "you just got ho-ome. I can't go to bed _now_!"

"Ah, but you want to see Henry, right?" Robin asks, lifting Roland up.

"Yeah," Roland says, dejected.

"The faster you go to sleep, the faster tomorrow gets here, and the faster Henry will be home," Robin reasons, and Roland sighs in agreement. "I'll even tuck you in, since I haven't gotten to in so long."

"Okay…"

"Say goodnight to mum," Robin instructs.

Regina leans in for Roland's kiss and his quick, "Night, Mommy."

"Goodnight, sweetheart."

She quickly finishes tidying up the downstairs - briefly considers getting the laundry started and ultimately decides that Robin can wash his own clothes - before following them upstairs. She can hear Robin talking softly in Roland's room as she makes her way to the master bedroom.

There are about a thousand butterflies flitting around her belly as she completes the more mundane aspects of her nightly ritual. Her fingers fumble at the catches on her jewelry, hands a bit unsteady as she wipes the makeup from her face and washes all traces of it away. She doesn't know if she's nervous or if she's anticipatory or some combination of both - and isn't it bizarre that she's nervous? She's survived the eight weeks alone in their big bed, she's been looking forward to having him back. Surely she can't unconsciously be thinking that anything's changed between them in the last two months - and yet she's never had such a long separation from the same partner.

She's thirty-eight years old and worried that her husband won't want her the same way he did before he left. _Any other stereotypes I should try to fill?_ Regina wonders wryly, making a face at herself in the mirror.

Then there are hands on her hips and lips on her neck and _oh_ , she's a fool.

Those heated gazes in the kitchen weren't just for show after all.

He slowly strips her of her clothing, kissing every inch of skin as it's revealed: from her collarbones, down her shoulders, to the tips of her fingers. Then starting from the top again, kissing her mouth, down her jaw and throat, across her chest - Regina's quite forgotten how to breathe at this point - and down her stomach. Her breaths are quick and full of expectation as he releases the buttons on her jeans and slides them and her panties down her legs. He kisses her thighs, her knees - _bastard_ , flicking his tongue against the spot behind her knee that makes her hiss, yearning for _more_.

And then he stops. And Regina has never understood the desire to kill someone more until just now. "You stopped," she says, breathless and a hint of a whine in her voice.

Robin just grins and strips off his shirt, tossing it in the hamper and the rest of Regina's rational thought quickly leaves her brain at the sight of his tanned muscles. He opens the shower door and twists the handle. "Coming?" he asks, undoing his belt.

"One of us better be," Regina retorts, stepping past him into the spray.

He joins her after another moment, pinning her against the wall with a kiss that she feels all the way down in her toes. His hands are rough and wonderful on her skin - teasing, pinching, caressing, stroking - leaving her gasping and breathless. He takes her against the wall, sliding into her easily, the muscles in his neck taut with the effort it takes to hold himself back. She doesn't _want_ him to hold back, wants everything he can give. " _Let go_ ," she whispers, barely audible above the steady stream of water beating against his back.

Robin moans, burying his face in her neck. It's not often that he's so relentless, blinded by _need_ and _lust_ and _want_ , but Regina's sure that - like the handful of previous occasions - she's not going to be able to sit properly for a week. She doesn't care. She _loves_ this: the way his hands hook under her legs and draw her up to give him a better angle; the way her legs perfectly wrap around his waist; the overwhelming combination of lust and love and adoration in his eyes when they meet hers. She especially loves the way he can bring her to completion so quickly, so effortlessly.

She's coming down from her high when she feels him pulse within her, reaching his own climax after riding hers out. He slumps a little, letting her legs slip out of his grasp so she can stand on her own - shaky, yes, but standing.

Little touches and kisses make cleaning up less mechanical, more intimate. Regina loves shower sex for this reason: there's nothing quite like your partner's hands rubbing soap over your still-tingling body, making you feel dirtier even as he's cleaning you. It all but guarantees round two and Regina is more than willing to participate.

Round two happens when Robin gently pulls her hands away from her towel, letting it fall to the tile floor as he leads her into the bedroom. He sweeps her off her feet and deposits her onto the bed, grinning at her giggles as they turn into gasps when he parts her legs and set his mouth upon her center. Her hands grasp for purchase - the quilt, his hair, _anything_ \- as she struggles to remember to breathe because _God,_ she's missed him.

She can't even let him make her come - she just needs _him_. Their lovemaking is slower, more tender, than it was in the shower; they trade sleepy, languid kisses, and despite the desire he's worked up within her she is in no rush to finish. She just wants to stay like this - wrapped up in each other and reaffirming their love - for as long as they can.

Later, when they're curled around one another under the covers, Robin's fingers toying with her hair, she smiles. "You know," Regina says, tucking herself further under his arm. "I actually considered getting a dog to replace you."

Robin barks a laugh, startled. "Oh so that's the welcome home I get? You almost replaced me?"

She grins, lifting her head to look up at him. " _Almost_ being the key word. It's a very big bed and it's very lonely without you in it."

Robin cups her cheek, bringing her to him for another kiss. "I missed you too, my love."

August melts into September in a flurry of back-to-school preparations and Henry's new cross country meet schedule. It's difficult to swallow the fact that Regina can't manage to make most of the Tuesday meets - two of her regular clients trade off on when they like to come in to go over contracts with her, and it's always on a Tuesday. Robin goes in her stead, and she tries to go to every Saturday meet. She spends a lot of those listening to the other parents discuss district, regional, and state prospects for the team, and picking up on the right kinds of encouragement - commenting on form or position in the race is good, downplaying what's left or encouraging them to go faster is bad. It's a whole new world Regina has to learn, but the more she uncovers the more she realizes it's not entirely unlike what her horses go through for their training. The only big difference is that a horse doesn't know when it's finished in the bottom third and a horse won't be thrown into a sullen teenage fit for hours after.

As things start to settle into a new routine at home, Regina realizes she has a new problem on her already full hands: Emma. She asks after Henry quite often and not entirely in the normal Big Sisterly way that Regina's used to. She seems overly concerned about Henry's taking up with the cross country team. Regina finds the whole thing ridiculous and does her best to brush Emma off. _She's just having a hard time adjusting_ , Regina thinks after another harrowing phone call about how Henry had cancelled their diner-and-dish plans again. _She's used to Henry needing her more often. So am I. He's growing up, though, and we both need to accept that he wants his own things to do._

Still, it's a bit blindsiding when Emma confronts Regina about the possibility of Henry having an eating disorder. During the entire discussion, Regina's wracking her brain for things Henry's told her over dinner the few times they've eaten together in the last couple of months, things the other parents have talked about at meets. Distance, time and effort, stride length, how to build endurance… Diet. Henry eats. She's _seen_ him eat. Emma's implying that he's starving himself and that's just ridiculous. For God's sake, Henry's hit a growth spurt over the summer, there's no way he's eating less.

Right?

" _Regina, dear, you don't want that second piece, do you?"_

Regina squeezes her eyes shut and shakes her head, trying to get rid of the memory before it overwhelms her.

" _No, Mother, I suppose not…"_

But Emma insists there's something wrong and Regina has to put her foot down because this is ridiculous. Anorexia and bulimia are things that wrestlers get, not runners. Runners burn too many calories to get eating disorders. Wrestlers, though, they're infamous for it, high school boys starving themselves to make it to a certain weight class. And then there's ballet dancers, or girls with overbearing mothers - Regina has to take a breath and calm down before she gets too worked up over long-buried emotions. Emma just doesn't know what she's talking about. Henry's fine. She is not Cora, Henry is not Regina.

" _Regina! What do you mean you're 'not hungry'? Did_ that boy _take you somewhere after school again, I_ told _you he's no good for you! He's going to ruin everything for you, destroy all you've worked for. Do I have to start picking you up from school myself? I don't have time to chauffeur you all over town!"_

She patiently explains the idea behind Henry's training, but she can see that stubborn look in Emma's eye. She's not going to back down on this, Regina can already tell. They're too similar in that regard. This is going to drag out far longer than Regina wants to deal with, so she agrees when Emma asks her to keep an eye on Henry this weekend.

" _You will not leave this house except for school and dance class, young lady, until I say so. You will stop wasting time on_ that boy _. And this is the_ last _time I will hear of you sneaking over to the stables, have I made myself clear?"_

" _...yes, Mother."_

As Regina walks back into the barn, something Emma said does stick with her for an annoyingly long time. She said that Henry had been acting strange since they'd come home from Kentucky, after touring the jockey school.

No, they'd talked about this. Regina shakes her head as if that would dislodge Emma's words. Henry had enjoyed the tour of the school, but he'd finally agreed that it was better to finish high school first. It would be less difficult in the long run than to work on his GED in his spare time, what little he would have after training. It would also be less expensive - Regina had looked up the cost of testing for the GED and it was astonishing the kind of money the test centers thought people had.

She sighs, leaning against a post for a moment. She doesn't want to go to her family all flustered, and she needs to process through her emotions. She's lucky to have walked away relatively unscathed from Cora's grasp, fleeing Connecticut with Daniel and never looking back, using the inheritance her father had left her to put herself through school.

Regina has thirty-six hours to prove to herself that Henry's not going down a path Regina herself had narrowly avoided at his age. She means to do so.

That night, Regina finds Henry dozing in front of the TV. "Henry," she says softly, shaking his shoulder a bit, "it's time for dinner."

"Not hungry," Henry mumbles sleepily. "Tired."

"Come on, come eat and then you can just go up to bed after dinner if you're so tired," she tells him.

He picks his way through dinner, yawning the whole time, but he cleans his plate and a knot in Regina's chest loosens. Henry even helps clean up after dinner before going up to bed, and Regina finds herself mentally gloating to an imaginary Emma that _see, Henry's fine_. Emma's worried about nothing.

Still, Regina finds herself listening for the tell-tale signs of the bathroom being used - just in case. But the house is quiet for a Saturday night. Roland went to bed shortly after Henry, and Robin's in the study working on the speech he has to give on Thursday.

Everything is fine.

Sunday is much the same. Henry's up and out for his morning run early, eats lunch at home, and plays video games until he has a team dinner/meeting that night. Regina texts Emma after Henry goes to bed, letting her know that everything is fine. "You'll be okay with the boys the next few days?" she asks, tossing her phone on the bed and picking up another shirt to fold.

Robin smiles at her over his notecards. "I think if you can handle two months alone with them, I can manage two days."

Regina smiles, packing the shirt in her overnight bag. She's got some consultations with their sister office down in Providence over the next two days, so it's not as if she's going to be _too_ far away. But it's enough to make her a little anxious, with everything going on. Regina silently curses Emma for making her worry when there's nothing to worry about.

She tries not to let thoughts of home distract her while she's in Rhode Island. It works - to an extent. Her mind stays occupied with work during the day, but the drive to and from - as well as the overnight stay - leaves her with a lot of time to think. It's on the drive home Wednesday morning that she decides she'll just sit down and talk with Henry. It's been a little while since they've really just talked to one another. Maybe a little heart-to-heart will do them both some good.

Fate conspires against her - another late night of work and homework for Henry - and then Thursday she and Robin have to be in Brunswick for his speaking engagement by five. "You're fidgety," Robin comments on the drive down. "You only fidget when you're anxious."

Regina belatedly realizes that she's been picking at her cuticles for the last fifteen minutes. "Sorry," she mumbles.

"Nothing to apologize for, love, I just wonder what has you so anxious," he says.

She lets out a breath slowly. "It's nothing, Emma just… Nothing. It's fine."

Robin reaches over the center console and takes her hand in his. She turns her hand and laces their fingers together out of reflex. "Emma just what?" he asks. "Tell me what's bothering you."

She hesitates, looking out the window at the trees whizzing by alongside the road. The shades of green and brown blur together, creating a blended tapestry of color and forest that has, as of yet, been untouched by man. She idly wonders how long that will last. Robin rubs small circles against her hand with his thumb; it's soothing enough to allow her to voice her fear, however quietly. "Emma thinks something's wrong with Henry."

"And you do not _entirely_ agree, but enough of you does to cause you to fret," Robin observes.

"Yeah," Regina says softly.

"What does Emma think?"

"She…" Regina fumbles for the right way to phrase this. "Did Henry seem any different to you? When you came home?"

"How do you mean?" Robin asks.

"Like… did he look any different?"

He muses her question over for a few moments, worrying his lower lip as he thought. "His growth spurt's hitting, I think."

"And that's what I thought," Regina says. "He looks taller, losing his baby fat…" She drifts off, frowning slightly, as a thought occurs to her: Henry's usually quite vocal about when his clothes don't fit right anymore. Not once this summer has he said anything about his jeans or shirts being too short, or if his shoes aren't fitting anymore. Her frown deepens. Henry isn't supposed to be earning any money for his work at the Horn, and Killian's beliefs about working for experience as a young person make her sure that he's not paying Henry under the table. Nor would he dare to go behind Regina's back like that if he knows what's good for him.

"Regina?" Robin interrupts her thoughts softly.

She swallows hard. This is more difficult to admit aloud than she expected. "Emma thinks… Emma thinks that Henry has an eating disorder," she says finally.

Robin exhales heavily. "That's a harsh accusation."

"I know."

"And part of you thinks she's right."

"Starting to."

Robin lets go of her hand in favor of running his fingers through his hair. Regina smiles ruefully - he's messed up his carefully combed hair. She'll have to fix it before he has to go up and present. "What are we supposed to do?" he asks finally. "I never thought that boys - but if you think it's _possible_ \- I've never given that any sort of - of thought. As a possibility of something we'd have to deal with, with two boys."

She doesn't bring up the thought that perhaps the baby they've been talking about having and planning ahead for might be a girl. His confusion is understandable, even if it's mildly irritating. There's a deeply gendered stigma around these sorts of things. But both Regina and Emma have been in and around the racing world for years and have witnessed or heard all sorts of stories about jockeys -

Regina can actually feel the blood draining from her face as she puts the pieces together.

Emma's right.

"Henry wants to be a jockey," Regina whispers.

Robin - new-to-racing Robin, steadfast and jovial Robin with a temper as slow to build as her own is quick - takes only a moment to understand before he curses the air so blue that Regina could almost blush. However, she echoes the sentiment and can only be relieved that he understands the severity of the implication. "We leave as soon as we can tonight," Robin says, the muscle in his jaw jumping as he grinds his teeth. "And we are going to have a discussion with our son. This goes on not one day longer."

Regina loves him, she really does.

Naturally, that's not how things work out. The socializing over the dinner and drinks is tedious at best and when Regina realizes she's about to have her third scotch of the evening she switches to water. She needs to be sober for later, no matter how much she doesn't care about what her husband's peers and superiors are discussing tonight. She's here for him, to support him, but she can't bring herself to summon the energy to make polite small talk. She almost sags with relief when it's time for Robin's presentation. It goes over well - Regina couldn't be prouder of how well he holds himself in front of everyone. If he's feeling anything remotely close to the gnawing anxiety that she is, it doesn't show in the least.

There's more mingling after the Q and A portion of the evening and she tries not to tap her toes or drum her fingers on anything or show any other outward signs of impatience. This is important to Robin's career; she needs to be on her best behavior. Once or twice he catches her eye with a little look that says ' _I know, we'll leave as soon as possible'_ , and she tries to relax. However, when he starts gesticulating during a particularly intense discussion, Regina knows ' _as soon as possible_ ' is going to be later than either of them would prefer.

She calls Emma to let her know about the slight change in plans - Emma's watching Roland tonight with Leo. It takes all of Regina's willpower to keep her tone natural and not let Emma know that Regina thinks she might be right about Henry. After she hangs up, she fires off two texts to Henry: the first to let him know that Emma's picking him up, and the second containing a short, stern missive, " _We need to talk when Robin and I get home_."

There are times that the mean mom card needs to come into play. This is one of those times.

She wonders if the second text is the reason Henry doesn't message her back - normally he's very good about responding to let her know he read it. Then again, that's not exactly the message anyone _likes_ receiving, let alone acknowledging, so Regina lets it slide.

It's not until sometime after nine that they finally get a chance to say their goodbyes and leave. Regina sighs heavily when they get into the car. "That was an ordeal," she says.

Robin chuckles as he cranks the ignition. "The trouble with academics," he says as they pull out of the parking garage. "Get enough of us into a room together and we start trying to show one another up on who is smarter than whom in regards to our specializations."

"So, two academics then," she comments drily.

He laughs and she grins despite the knot that's been tying itself tighter in her chest all evening. At the red light, he takes her hand in his again, squeezing gently. "I love you," he tells her. "We'll get through this together."

She smiles warmly, staring down at their clasped hands. "I love you too," she replies.

They're pulling onto the freeway when her phone rings. The number is coming up as _Unknown_ and Regina sighs inwardly: a few of her clients have their numbers unlisted and she really doesn't have the energy to deal with any of them at the moment. If they're calling so late, it's an emergency. "Regina Hood," she answers, her tone businesslike.

"Mrs. Hood? I'm calling from Storybrooke General. Your son has been in an accident and is currently being admitted for treatment."

What's left of Regina's composure quickly flies out the window. "Oh my God, is he okay? Which son, do you know?" she asks, her voice pitching high. Robin glances at her sharply but she flaps her hand at him to make him watch the road. They don't need to join their son at the hospital. "Teenager or child?"

"We have a teenage male and I was given your contact information for him, ma'am. We'll need you to come in for a proper identification, but I can go over some quick things on the phone with you. Can I have the boy's name?"

"Henry Mills," she replies faintly, pressing her hand to her forehead as she wills the urge to panic away. Tears prick at the corners of her eyes.

"Age?"

"Fifteen."

"Do you know his blood type?"

"Oh God," Regina mumbles, her stomach rolling as she threads her fingers through her hair. She will _not_ cry. She _won't_. "No, I don't. Does he need a transfusion?"

"He's being examined for further injuries, Mrs. Hood. It will be easier to explain in person. How quickly can you get here?"

She glances at Robin and mouths the question. He glances at the speedometer and then at the clock. "Forty-five minutes," he answers.

She repeats the answer to the woman on the phone. There's a few more questions about medical consent and insurance, and Regina somehow gets through it all without breaking any further. Robin takes her hand again the moment she hangs up the phone. "What happened?"

"An accident at the stables, she wouldn't go into further detail over the phone," Regina replies, staring straight ahead. It's easier to focus on the red tail lights ahead of them, and what little their own headlights reveal of the world outside, than sink further into a spiral of worry. Henry needs her in one piece, in control.

"Was anyone else hurt?"

"I don't know."

She clings to Robin's hand like a lifeline the entire drive back; neither of them say anything else, worry etched onto both of their faces. He doesn't say a word when she does give in to the urge to cry a little, only holds her hand all the tighter. She dabs away the tears with a napkin from the glove compartment - she needs to pull herself together. Henry needs her to. Regina uses the rest of the trip back to try and piece herself together, put on her competent mask - the one she started building against her mother when she was Henry's age, the one that got her through school and an early marriage and all of those times she couldn't carry hers and Daniel's children. The mask that carried her through law school and the bar and losing Daniel, the mask that only came off around her sons and Robin.

She has work to do.

When Robin parks the car at the hospital, Regina's more or less ready. She's probably the picture of a hysterical mother - she knows she's only smudged her makeup around and she doesn't even want to _think_ about her hair right now - but that will only help her in the long run. People will give any information to someone who looks like her, a mother worried sick about her child.

The first stop is a private waiting area, where they find one of the stable hands from the Horn and Emma sitting with Roland and Leo. Emma looks worse than Regina, which doesn't make Regina feel any better: Emma's pale, her eyes wide, red-rimmed, and glassy, for all the world looking like she's seen a legion of ghosts. Roland pulls away from her grasp, running for Robin and starting to sob. Robin lifts him into his arms easily. Regina glances over at Emma, who seems to have noticed that they're here, but at the same time she's looking at them like she can't see them at all. "Is he all right?" Regina asks Emma.

There's some sign of life when she kind of shrugs in response, but doesn't say anything. Robin pulls Regina in for a three-way hug and she leans against him gratefully. "It's going to be all right, Roland," Robin murmurs soothingly.

"B-But Henry was hurt," Roland says between sobs. "An-and Mr. Killian wouldn't wake up. And Emma's hands were shaking real bad and Demon tried to run away -"

Regina meets Robin's confused gaze, then glances at Emma again, who now looks like she's trying to curl in on herself, her arms wrapped around Leo like a child might hold a favorite stuffed toy. "I'm going to go talk to someone," Regina mutters. _Someone_ who isn't a child or in the middle of a panic attack has to know what's going on.

She pulls away from Robin with some regret, wiping at her eyes again, and leaves the room. Her heels echo in the waiting area with purpose as she strides up to the registration desk. "Regina Hood, my son was admitted about an hour ago. Last name Mills?"

She's given a clipboard of paperwork to complete at her leisure, then she's taken back into the emergency room itself. It's eerie, the whitewashed walls and floor, and Regina has to suppress a shudder. She doesn't like hospitals, not since her father died when she was fifteen, or all of those miscarriages, or the car accident that had ultimately ended Daniel's life. Hospitals represent loss for her, and while she's not a praying woman she can only hope that Henry isn't added on to that long list.

Regina is led to the examination room where Henry is. He's sleeping, propped up on a bunch of pillows with another tucked under his right arm, which is also in a sling. "He had x-rays a while ago," the nurse, Emily, explains. "We're waiting for those to come back. But the physical examination and bruising around the affected area suggests he's broken his collarbone. The x-rays will tell us if he needs surgery or not."

Broken collarbones are not the end of the world, but Regina's knees feel weak anyway looking at him. She doesn't understand how she hasn't seen it until now. Maybe it's the harsh lights, those are supposed to reveal what can't be seen normally, right? Henry is definitely thinner than Regina can remember, the veins on his arms stark and blue against his pale skin - even during the hottest parts of the summer she remembers seeing him in long-sleeved plaid shirts. Working shirts, she hadn't even given it a second thought. But he'd never even rolled up his sleeves?

He knew someone would notice.

Regina mentally berates herself for not recognizing any of the signs, for ignoring Emma's warnings... She takes a breath, calming her rage and ensuring her carefully constructed mask stays in place. Emily clears her throat. "We also had some concerns from the preliminary tests," she says.

"What concerns?" Regina asks.

Emily picks up a chart and points out some numbers. "His blood pressure is lower than we'd like to see from someone his age. If he needs surgery, that would be a risk concern. But there's half a dozen things that could have caused it, including the break itself, so right now we're monitoring for any further changes."

Regina nods in acknowledgement, her heart feeling very heavy in her chest. The litany of facts her counselor in high school had drilled into her comes rushing back - cardiovascular problems being the more dangerous effects of eating disorders. She thanks Emily and goes to sit in the chair next to the bed as Emily leaves them to their privacy. Regina takes hold of Henry's free hand briefly, squeezing gently and running her thumb along his skin. He feels cold - another symptom - and she can practically feel the self-loathing start to gnaw away at her insides. She hates whatever drove him to think this was his only option, she hates herself for getting so wrapped up in herself that she didn't even notice this happening. "I'm here now, sweetheart," Regina murmurs softly. "I'm here now and everything's going to be okay now."

She doesn't know if it's even the truth. It's going to be a long time before 'okay' even remotely fits them. But sometimes moms have to tell little white lies. Sometimes it's for their kids, but mostly it's for themselves.

Regina sits and works on the paperwork clipboard while she waits for someone to come back with an update. At some point she texts Robin to let him know she's with Henry. Robin, in turn, lets her know that Emma had a breakdown and he'd had to call David to get her and Leo home. Roland's sleeping now, he says, and the stable hand - Lewis, Robin says is his name - is still there to wait for an update on Killian. Regina has to take another moment to compose herself when she remembers Roland saying that Killian wouldn't wake up - no wonder Emma was having a breakdown.

Regina shakes her head to clear her thoughts. She'll let Robin handle that side of things. Killian might be in her employ, but Regina needs to be here with Henry.

A doctor comes in with the x-rays, introduces herself as Dr. Barrowman, and explains Henry's fracture. The bruising made things look worse than they are - apparently there's quite the dramatic outline of a hoof on Henry's shoulder - so Dr. Barrowman is optimistic about Henry's recovery. "Your son is young, Mrs. Hood," she explains. "We see more broken collarbones than anything from kids, and they bounce right back. He'll have to limit his movement while it heals, wear that sling as much as possible. We'll set up some appointments for follow-up x-rays, make sure everything is healing right. There's a slim chance he'll need surgery if things don't look like they're lining up the right way, but I think Henry will be fine."

"How long does this sort of thing take to heal?" Regina wants to know.

"Four to twelve weeks, depending on his health and if he does anything to hinder the healing process," Dr. Barrowman explains. Regina wonders if she ever sounds this chipper while outlining terms and conditions for a union organization. "That's what the follow-up x-rays are for, make sure he's following the rules. Regardless, he's going to need some P.T. when the sling comes off, but we'll discuss that further down the line. Any other questions?"

"Is he going to need to take anything?"

Dr. Barrowman smiles. "Normally we just say take some Advil or Tylenol, but I'll get you a prescription for something a little stronger for the first week. He's going to feel that bruise for a while. After that week, just give him normal over-the-counter painkillers."

Regina starts to respond, but then Henry moves, grunting a little and wincing as he moves his bad arm. "Ow," he grumbles, his voice thick from sleep.

Dr. Barrowman's at his other side in an instant. "Easy there, kiddo. Just try not to move, you'll thank me later on that."

Henry lays back with another wince. "What happened? Where am I?"

Dr. Barrowman checks his eyes with a pen light. "Dilation responding normally," she says. "Does your head hurt at all?"

"Not really," Henry replies. "Just tired and my shoulder is killing me… Oh, shit."

Dr. Barrowman smiles wryly as Regina raises her eyebrows at his language. "Sometimes it takes a minute to come back. Do you remember what happened?" the doctor asks.

He nods. "I was trying to fix an abscess on one of our horses and he kicked me." His eyes widened slightly. "Oh man, is Killian okay? He got hit bad. And Emma was -"

Regina takes his hand in both of hers. "Emma's fine." She remembers Robin saying David had to take her home, and amends, "Physically, anyway. I think she's shaken up about all of this. I don't know about Killian."

Regina looks up at Dr. Barrowman who shrugs a little. "I'm the peds doctor tonight. I can check on his file and give you an update?"

"Jones is his surname, please," Regina says.

Dr. Barrowman nods and promises to be back as soon as she can. Someone else pops in and collects the clipboard from Regina, and then finally she and Henry are left by themselves. Henry settles back against the pillows, closing his eyes. She doesn't want to chance him falling back asleep just yet - another symptom, she remembers - and it's better they get this over with sooner rather than later. "So," Regina starts after a few minutes.

"So…" Henry repeats, drawing out the o.

"Did you want to talk about anything with me?"

Henry chances opening his eyes again, watching her warily. "Talk about what?"

She levels a patient look at him. "Henry. _I know_."

" _What_ do you know?" he scoffs.

She purses her lips. For someone on as many painkillers as she suspects he is, he's still pretty mouthy. And stubborn. Then again, he's _her_ son and she should expect no less. "I know why your skin's so cold," Regina counters. "And why the doctors are concerned that your blood pressure is so low. And why I can see all the veins in your arms."

Henry rolls his eyes and Regina's temper sparks to life. "What, am I some kind of vampire? How long have I been fifteen, Mom?"

"Henry Daniel Mills -"

" _Mom_. I don't want to talk about this, okay?" Henry snaps.

Regina fumes but doesn't say anything else. She sits back in the chair as Henry pointedly doesn't look at her. She doesn't know how to broach this topic with him in a way that's he's not going to throw up walls to shut her out - he's _her_ son, after all, and Emma's protégé. There have been relatively few times that Regina has regretted Emma coming into their lives, but all of those times have lined up with Henry's stubborn streak kicking in. Regina just wishes he wouldn't dig his heels in over something this potentially life-threatening.

"Mrs. Mills?" someone in the doorway.

Regina turns, her anger dissipating at the sound of her old name. "It's Hood now," she corrects. "Can I help you?"

The woman beckons her into the hallway. "I'd like to speak with you for a moment."

Regina glances at Henry again. "We're not done here," she warns him, and she gets up to go into the hallway.

Her temper sparks to life further when the woman introduces herself as a social worker and how she has concerns that - comparing Henry's current weight to that of his most recent physical records - Henry is malnourished. The social worker tiptoes around the idea that Regina isn't feeding her own child and Regina has to rein in her immediate impulse to take this woman to the wall for her assumptions. She's heard plenty of stories from Mal over the years about people who have lost custody of their children just because they couldn't keep their tempers under control when it mattered the most - and Regina is nothing if not a professional at keeping her emotions in check. "My son has recently joined the cross country team," she says instead. "Perhaps a little too enthusiastically. I'm certain that this injury will bench him for the rest of the season, and in that time we'll be able to discuss his tendency to push past his own limits."

The social worker frowns. "Ma'am, this is more than just a case of simple over-exercising," she starts, but Regina holds up her hand to silence her.

"Please don't misunderstand me," Regina says quietly. "I'm not ignoring what you're telling me, but nor will I tell you I have been starving my own child, because that would be a lie. I've only just come to understand my son's condition myself. Earlier today, in fact. You can imagine how upsetting it is to realize your only child is slowly trying to…" Her voice breaks and she's startled to realize that there are tears in her eyes. She takes a deep breath to calm herself. She does nobody any good by losing her cool. "Regardless. I am aware of the situation. I intend to take it up with my son's therapist. If there are any resources you can provide me with to ensure my son is able to recover, I would be glad to accept them. In the meantime…"

The social worker eyes her carefully, reading her. Regina allows her to, understanding this is all part of the process. Finally, the other woman nods. "Alright. I need to speak with your son privately, however. Standard procedure, just to cross-check stories."

Regina nods in return. "I should give my husband an update."

She gets directions back to the lobby. Glancing at a clock on her way out, Regina's shocked to see it's not even eleven yet. The last few hours have been some of the longest of her entire life. She feels like it was years ago that she and Robin were driving down to Brunswick, just figuring out Henry's problem.

Robin's holding a very sleepy-looking Roland when she gets to their waiting area. "How is he?" Robin asks softly.

Regina sits. "There's a social worker talking to him now. Apparently he's lost enough weight since his last physical that it's -" She makes a face. "She didn't say it outright, but there was definitely some implication that I might be endangering my own child."

Robin makes a face of his own. "And I'm sure that went over swimmingly."

"I used diplomacy, thank you," she replied smoothly. "But he's awake and talking. Broken collarbone, may or may not need surgery later, but the doctor thinks he'll be fine. He's definitely done with cross country, though. For multiple reasons. He's not going near the farm for a while, either."

"So he's grounded," Robin states.

Regina shakes her head. "No, he's not. He's sick, he's not running out after curfew and tagging bridges. He's just… going to be under some stricter supervision for a while. And going to see Dr. Hopper more."

"Is Henry okay?" Roland asks quietly, puncturing it with a yawn.

Regina reaches over and smooths down his curls. "He's hurting right now, but he'll be okay soon. Why don't you go to sleep, Roland?"

He shakes his head, even as his eyes are drooping. "Wanna see Henry."

Regina and Robin trade looks of resignation - Roland could be stubborn when he put his mind to it. Hopefully exhaustion would take care of it sooner rather than later. She sits with them for a little while longer. Every so often she glances over at the stable hand who had brought Emma and the boys in; he's still sitting in the same spot, arms stretched across a few chairs, watching CNN. "Have you gotten any word about Killian?" Regina asks, raising her voice a little.

The stable hand shakes his head. "Not as yet, Mrs. Hood. They know to come to me if something's wrong, after Miss Swan left, but for now I'm taking it as no news is good news. Mr. Jones'll pull through just fine."

Regina nods. "Thank you, Mr…" she drifts off, waiting for him to fill in the blank.

He smiles crookedly. "Just Lewis, Mrs. Hood. Ain't no 'mister' in me."

It's after eleven when she finally decides she's given everyone enough time to do what they need to and goes back to sit with Henry while they wait to see what happens next. He doesn't talk to her, doesn't respond to any of her attempts to bring up anything - not even his problem - just stares ahead or pretends to doze. It's irritating and aggravating and she knows he's just deflecting, but they have to talk about this eventually. Talk about _anything_ eventually. Finally, after several failed starts, Regina just decides to talk.

"My mother had this idea for how she wanted me to live my life," she said quietly. She didn't like talking about Cora, had never allowed her into her life after she left home at eighteen. Regina wouldn't be surprised if Cora knew about Henry, or that Daniel had died, or that she'd remarried and had a stepson - that's simply how the woman who had given birth to her was. But she didn't talk about her life growing up much. Henry didn't know anything about his maternal grandmother, just the grandfather he was named for. "I don't know when it started, or if it was just always there, but she did her best to mold me into a life she thought was best for her daughter. _The_ best. _I_ had to be the best. I was always going to some class or other. Ballet, art, music. Horseback riding. Gifted and talented courses. I was like you, I loved horses. Cora noticed and used it against me. If I didn't practice the piano for two hours, I wouldn't be allowed to continue my riding lessons. If I didn't help clean up after dinner, I would be banned from the stables for a month - and I wasn't helping her clean up, no. It was either my father, or the woman we had hired for a housekeeper that month. Those women never lasted very long, not with Cora ruling the house.

"I did well in my riding lessons, moving on to more advanced classes. I did jumping, show hunting. I loved dressage - I competed for a few years. I had to leave all of my trophies and ribbons when I left home, but I was very good for how old I was," Regina says quietly, smiling softly. She doesn't have a lot of happy memories from her childhood, but her time in the stables made up the most of them. The smile fades at the next memory. "Brian, my teacher, wanted me to learn barrel racing. Said that as good a rider as I was, I'd be a natural. And barrel racing is a woman's sport - men don't compete on the professional circuit. I learned how to, walked the clover a few times to get the feel of it, competed a few times against other students."

She hardens, her banked temper igniting again. "Then Cora found out. She said barrel racing was beneath me - a rodeo sport, not an Olympic one - so I was wasting my time with it. We fought. I lost my riding privileges permanently after that."

Henry's watching her out of the corner of his eye now. Regina toys with her rings. "She put me into more dance classes at that point. I was about your age, fifteen or sixteen. Your grandfather had died by then, so Cora didn't have anyone standing in her way as even a weak defense of me. I hadn't danced much since focusing on riding, so I was behind the other girls in my classes. I was put into a harder training regiment at home, a strict diet. Cora would have me improving quickly, or she'd know why."

She glances up at Henry, who has now turned his head to look at her fully. She can't quite gauge his expression, but it's definitely a curious one. "My own mother rationed my meals, trying to make me do as she wished," Regina says. "She said it was for my dancing, but I knew better. I was still fighting with her about riding, so she was trying to starve me into submission. It didn't work - I had one or two friends I could trust to feed me at lunchtime. It wasn't like it is now, with everyone very conscious about these sorts of things. People were just starting to talk about their issues at home, and most of the time were met with resistance. Parents ruled the roost and that was that. I was lucky, my school counselor was a little more progressive. She listened when I went to her about Cora. She helped me figure out how to do all of my college applications and not include my mother in any of the financial aid paperwork. When I met your father, he went with me. I took only what I dared. He came around late at night in this old, beat-up '86 Buick he was so proud of. Headlights off, all of that. I snuck out with my one bag of possessions and clothing, and every penny I'd ever saved, and we left town that night."

"And you never looked back and were blissfully happy for years until Dad died, I know," Henry says quietly. "I remember."

Regina smiles ruefully. "It wasn't always easy. We learned quickly that you can't live on love alone, but we managed it. There are only three or four people I can thank for my being here right now: those friends I was allowed in high school, my counselor, and your father. I did a lot of it on my own, though." She reaches over and takes his hand. Henry doesn't pull away and she takes that as a good sign. "Here's the thing though - _you_ don't have to. I know it feels like you only have one option, only one way to succeed, but you don't. You have so many options, Henry, and so many people to help you along the way. You have me and Robin, you have Emma. The Nolans love you dearly. As much as he's a pain in the ass, you know Will would do just about anything for you. All the men at the Horn would, they've practically watched you grow up. You _have_ to know we'd support you no matter what you choose to do with yourself, sweetheart. We just want you to do it safely."

Henry shakes his head. "But every time I talk about jockey school you ignore me and talk about college instead."

Regina sighs, letting go of him and sitting back in her chair. That particularly stings, recalling Cora's pointed ignoring of her daughter's wishes. "I know. And I'm sorry that I made you feel like I was ignoring what you wanted. It's… you'd be dropping out of school, sweetheart. That's an incredibly difficult thing to go through. It has consequences that are difficult to work around. I'd rather you get a free education - or one I pay with my taxes anyway - and diploma than try to fit in all these expensive tests around your racing classes. And I _know_ you, Henry. You prioritize and I can see right now that you'd put those tests around the bottom of your priorities list. You're _my_ son. You see what you want and you go after it with both hands, consequences be damned. We're having this conversation because of that."

"So this is your fault?" Henry wants to know.

She glares at him, irritated, but she can see a bit of humor in his eyes and knows he's trying to lighten the mood. He might have inherited her stubbornness, but like his father - and stepfather - Henry knows how to make her smile. "A lot of it is," she replies honestly. "I wasn't there for you like I should have been. I've been… caught up in other things." Internally, she's shaking her head over the idea that she and Robin would be able to have another child. Mary Margaret had had the right idea, training to have another baby by having two little kids around the house, but Regina has a teenager. And these are new waters, with new challenges. Regina knows how to handle little kids, but teenage boys?

She can't afford to focus on something that hasn't even happened yet, not when her son needs her more than ever.

She pushes away the thought. She and Robin would need to have another discussion soon, but that could wait. "However," Regina says, growing stern again, "that doesn't remove the blame from you entirely. I thought we talked about this with Dr. Hopper. And that argument you had with Emma earlier this summer."

There's a familiar stubborn set to Henry's jaw. "Yeah, but I wasn't doing any of _that_. I didn't do anything Dr. Hopper or Emma told me about. I _ate_. I _exercised_. I didn't throw up all over the place."

"There's more than one way to skin a cat, Henry," Regina says wryly, the phrase a favorite of her father's.

He sighs. "I did smoke a cigarette," he admits. "I got it off of Will."

Regina's temper flares to life again as she grips the arms of her chair in lieu of finding Will Scarlet and wrapping her hands around his throat. For three seconds she'd been using Will as a positive force in her son's life, and he's been giving Henry _cigarettes_? Henry must see something on her face because he's quick to add, "Don't worry, he didn't give it to me, I stole it. And then Killian caught me and reamed me out for it."

She relaxes slightly. Perhaps Killian deserves his Christmas bonus this year. Guilt creeps up in Henry's expression. "Though he's the one who said I have to be strong to handle the horses and that running's better than smoking."

Maybe Mr. Jones doesn't deserve a bonus after all. And maybe if he lived through whatever was going on with him, she'd kill him herself. "Oh did he now?" Regina asks, her tone frosty.

"Yeah," Henry says. He looks even more uncomfortable now. "But Mr. Gold's the one who said he could get me in touch with some of the agents he knows. He's got some pull in the jockey associations, and he said he'd get me in without having to go to jockey school."

Regina didn't wake up this morning intending to have a list of people to murder by day's end, but here she is, and Gold's name has been bumped to the top of the list. After the fiasco last spring where he tried to start half a dozen rumors about Emma, some of them involving Robin, Regina's been looking for more of an excuse to figuratively kick his ass. (Emma had taken care of the literal part, naturally.) "Oh he did, did he?" she asks flatly, her mind already going in a hundred directions for how to fix this.

Gold would have to be removed. Restraining order, obviously, and if Regina had her way he'd be removed from the Horn altogether. Legally, it would be a bit tricky, but she could manage something. Mal would help for certain - child endangerment was one of her pet areas and if this didn't qualify, nothing did - but they'd need someone in criminal law to help, probably. There's that Zelena Mills in the sister office - she's a bit terrifying to watch in action, but if anyone could outsmart Gold it would probably be her. They could use the Neal angle, Gold had backed out rather quickly last fall…

" _Mom_."

Regina blinks. Henry's looking at her rather pointedly. "You had your scary face on again."

"Thinking, honey, just thinking," she says.

"Is Mr. Gold's head going to be mounted on a spike on our fence tomorrow morning?"

Regina actually laughs. "No, good Lord. I wouldn't want to frighten Roland. Plus, that's more Gold's style, don't you think?"

"The whole _Game of Thrones_ thing? Yeah." Henry's quiet for a moment, then asks, "Are you mad at me?"

Her head jerks up, startled at the question. " _Henry_." Her heart hurts. "Sweetheart. You are the… well, you aren't the _last_ person I'm mad at. There's a long list ahead of you, but there's a few people below you too. But I'm not _mad_. Hurt? Yes. Disappointed? A little. Scared out of my mind because I thought I'd lose the most important person in my entire world? Absolutely." She reaches over again, lacing their fingers together. "You are my baby, Henry. I know you're fifteen and growing up, and that's hard for me some days. But when I figured out what Emma had been talking about the other day, and then that phone call… I'm happy that you're safe, that we can start making things right again."

There's tears in her eyes and Henry looks away quickly - not quick enough though, because she can see he's a little emotional too. "I guess I'm off the team," he says when he's composed himself.

"The sling will do that," Regina replies drily. "But yes. And we'll be filling all those hours you won't be spending at practice or at the farm with family time and Dr. Hopper time." Henry groans, letting his head fall back on the pillows. "Oh no, you do not get to complain about that, young man. I'm sure there's a lot you two can talk about on a weekly basis."

"I liked going once a month…" Henry grumbles.

She has nothing to say to that - he's just complaining for the sake of it, she can tell. Dr. Barrowman comes back just then, with a bunch of papers and a nurse with a wheelchair. "Your Mr. Jones has yet to wake up, but they've taken him down to surgery. Simple procedure, he'll be in and out in nothing flat, but I can't tell you more than that. Meanwhile _you_ , Henry, get to go home as long as your mom gets all this paperwork signed."

Regina handles the paperwork and takes the prescription note while Henry's moved into the wheelchair. "Two weeks, come back and we'll check on how you're healing, alright?" Dr. Barrowman asks.

They find Robin with a now-asleep Roland in the waiting area. Regina lets Lewis know that Killian's in surgery before they leave. She sends a text to Emma too, letting her know about both Henry and Killian. Regina finds it a bit strange when she doesn't respond, but maybe David knocked her out with a horse tranquilizer.

Regina wouldn't be opposed to one of those herself, not after a night like tonight.

At home, after both boys are tucked in, Regina and Robin collapse into their own bed. Sleep is hard to come by for either of them, so they're content to just hold each other while their nerves settle. "I talked to Henry," Regina says quietly.

She rehashes everything for Robin. "So that's that, he's dropping his jockey thing?" he asks when she falls silent.

"It seemed that way, but he was on a lot of painkillers. It might be less simple when he's sober. I doubt we'll hear the last of this anytime soon," she replies.

"He _knows_ all of this," Robin says fiercely, his tone hushed. "That's the part that kills me, that he knows the risks and dangers, but chose to do them anyway."

"I know."

"The dangers off _all_ of it, not just the weight class, but the racing itself. How many jocks have we seen get smashed to bits? And he wants that for himself."

She sighs, tucking her head against him further. "He gets that from me," she says.

Robin chuckles humorlessly under her. "Of that I've no doubt, my love, but he just… I know he gets his stubbornness and drive from you. And I don't want you blaming yourself for this, darling, because I can already see that happening."

Regina snorts, amused despite herself that he can read her so well. She's done her best to not turn out to be her mother, but right now it feels like she's definitely failed in that regard. Robin sighs. "It's just... baffling," he continues. "I know I'm a desk jockey, content with my papers and books and the occasional foray into the wilderness, and there's probably some piece of the grand puzzle I'm missing and can't see the whole picture. But to want to do something as dangerous as that as a living is just completely baffling to me."

 _There's more to it than chasing adrenaline highs_ , Regina thinks sadly. The traveling, the money, the glory… She can understand that desire. She knows what it's like to be hungry for more than what you've got, to strive for it with everything you are.

What they need is to find a new goal for Henry. If they're going to really and truly dissuade him from this goal, one he's held on to for half his life at this point, they need to find new ones. Short term _and_ long term goals. She's sure that Dr. Hopper will go over these in detail and help Henry figure those out over the next few weeks, but she'd like to have some of her own ready too. Surprises along the way, maybe, as he hits milestones in his recovery.

She shifts a little, moving her legs to a cooler area in the bed - with both of them so amped up, it's warm under the covers tonight. An idea hits her - startling her with both its simplicity and it's complete hypocrisy for everything she's said for the last few years - and she starts to chuckle. "What is it?" Robin asks, starting to sound drowsy.

She shakes her head. "Robin, how do you feel about dogs?"

* * *

 **I meant to get this done a month ago, but Regina's a difficult character to write! And she had quite a lot to say, as it turns out. Thanks for reading, I'm hoping to get the next chapter of** ** _Dark Horse_** **done soon, and I'm over on Tumbler as initiala!**


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